Read Wish You Were Italian Online
Authors: Kristin Rae
Home. Riomaggiore is already starting to feel like home. Aside from my week holed up here in the apartment, I’ve got a relatively established routine, a job, friends.
But there’s a problem. I’m not staying here forever. I have to give this up and go home, my real home. Back to school. Back to the city.
And I hate that.
Cosa che odio
.
Securing Morgan’s journal closed with the thin leather
string, I hobble back to my room and stuff it in the bottom of my suitcase since Bruno knows the hiding spot under my pillow. I’m not completely convinced he didn’t read it, but he hasn’t brought it up again and I’m sure not going to.
There’s still about an hour before Chiara comes home with lunch, so I plug the cord for the Internet into my computer and sprawl out on top of the bed. I send Mom another selectively worded e-mail about how busy I am, how I’m now good friends with a local girl who’s helping me with my Italian, and how unique the architecture is over here. True, true, and true.
I can’t believe I’m still getting away with this. Shouldn’t she have noticed by now that I’m not where I’m supposed to be? Does she trust me that much? I’m probably jinxing myself even thinking this, but I’m almost disappointed neither of my parents has figured it out yet. Not that I want to be grounded for life—I just want to feel … wanted, I guess.
I make a mental note to be more rebellious in the future. Clearly I haven’t been living up to my potential.
I’m about to start an e-mail to Morgan when my computer chimes and an instant message box pops up.
queenofdrama14:
pippa? are you really online?
pippers26:
OMG, MORGAN!
queenofdrama14:
PIPPA! how are you?! holy crap, i have so many questions. did you really skip out on that school program? are you having the most fantabulous time?! i miss you!
pippers26:
I miss you too! What time is it there? Shouldn’t you be asleep?
queenofdrama14:
oh psh, it’s like 2 am. i’m wide awake. tell me about YOU!
pippers26:
Coast is clear, right?
queenofdrama14:
please. you know my parents are lightweights. been asleep for hours. and garrett’s off at new student orientation this week, thank god.
queenofdrama14:
he’s driving me NUTSO. won’t shut up about starting college.
queenofdrama14:
so yeah. coast is crystal clear. no sharks in the water. spill.
pippers26:
I’m spending the rest of the summer in Cinque Terre!
queenofdrama14:
cinque whattie? where’s this?
pippers26:
On the coast. Kind of close to France, actually. It’s so gorgeous here. I’m taking lots of photos to show you.
queenofdrama14:
googling. hold please.
queenofdrama14:
wow! you’re living quite the life over there, huh? totes beautiful! speaking of beautiful. have you gotten to that assignment yet?
queenofdrama14:
you know, the breaking out of your comfort zone one?
pippers26:
Um … maybe.
queenofdrama14:
MAYBE? you better not be wimping out on me, pippers.
pippers26:
Hah! Yes, I got to it. I told a beautiful guy he was beautiful! Eeeep!
queenofdrama14:
and?!
pippers26:
… and he kissed me. The next day, but still.
queenofdrama14:
!!!! who? details!
pippers26:
His name is Bruno. I told you about Chiara, remember? Bruno’s her cousin. We’re staying with his family.
queenofdrama14:
whoa, like in the same house? that’s some serious close proximity. where does he sleep? and where do you sleep?
pippers26:
Chill out there, Morgs. Chiara and I kicked the guys out of their bunk beds. They sleep in the living room.
My fingers rhythmically tap the surface of the keys, waiting for a response.
pippers26:
You still there?
queenofdrama14:
uh, yeah, sorry. just passed out a little. you said GUYS. that’s plural. and they’re italian, right?
queenofdrama14:
have you died and gone to heaven, leaving me behind to navigate the dregs?
pippers26:
Luca’s, like, a child. Doesn’t count.
queenofdrama14:
whatevs. oh hey, cable’s throwing rocks at my window. time for me to make like a tree.
pippers26:
Cable? WAIT! You’re sneaking out at two in the morning with Jeremy Cable?
queenofdrama14:
maybe.
I sink down into my seat, reviewing every possible interaction between the two of them I may have witnessed since Cable joined our drama group last year. He’s unarguably gorgeous, but
he’s so quiet, I never caught much of a personality from him. And she never once mentioned him to me apart from “Who’s the new guy?” and “I sure hope he can keep up.”
pippers26:
No wonder you were awake. And Cable is hardly the dregs, Morgs. He’s cute!
queenofdrama14:
haha, i know! i miss you!
pippers26:
This conversation is not over. I will get details out of you!
queenofdrama14:
ditto ;) leaving now. love you!
pippers26:
Love you too! Later.
I’m still smiling as I close out our conversation and crank up the music on my computer, halfheartedly sing-humming along to the songs I know and scrolling through the pictures I’ve taken so far this summer. I start at the beginning, my mouth watering at the rich texture of my first gelato. I’m transported back to the streets of Rome when I come to the picture of a quiet alley draped in ivy, then the Pantheon, and the Colosseum. I ache for that first day, everything about it.
And everyone …
I stop at the image of me between Darren and Nina, the Colosseum stretching up behind us. It’s such an iconic structure, at first glance someone might think we were Photoshopped in front of it. But I know the truth. And I can feel it. The sticky heat of Rome’s summer air, the chatter of languages blending together. The hand at my lower back.
My face stares back at me, only a couple of weeks younger than I am now, but the difference is shocking. There’s more color and life to me now, thanks to my sun-kissed skin and my rich
chocolate hair. I’ve gotten so used to seeing the me in the mirror that this pale, untraveled girl in the photo seems like someone else. She was still waiting.
A sigh escapes my lips and I scroll over to Darren’s face until it takes up the entire screen, then zoom out to fit his mane into view. Seriously, who has hair like that? Guys don’t get perms, do they?
I keep scrolling through the rest of my photos, and my breath catches at the sight of me with Bruno. The kissing bench. I zoom in. I don’t remember closing my eyes. Not that I remember leaving them open either, but they’re definitely closed here. My eyebrows are raised in surprise while Bruno’s are scrunched together, intense. Passionate.
I pull my computer closer to me and stare at our lips. Chills run down my arms at the memory.
The music that’s blaring from the computer speakers fades, and just before it transitions to the next song, Chiara shrieks behind me.
“You kissed him?”
I slam my laptop shut and roll off the bed to face her, keeping most of my weight on my stronger foot. “It’s not what it looks like.”
She drops the lunch she brought for me onto the dresser and crosses her arms.
“
He
kissed
me!
”
“And
you
kissed
him
. I saw you zoom in to the lips.”
I swallow hard, guilt painting my face. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. He really did kiss me. First.”
She shakes her head and clucks her tongue.
“Yes, I know what he is, what you say he is. But you don’t—”
“I do not what?
Know
him? I know him more than you do.” Her nostrils are slightly flared, teeth clenched.
But when he looks at me, talks to me … it can’t all be contrived.
“I appreciate your warnings, Chiara, I really do. But you can’t expect me to want to resist the attention of a gorgeous Italian.” Especially when he’s taken such sweet care of me this entire week. He likes me, I know he does.
She erupts into laughter.
“Yes, I said it. Your cousin is hot. This can’t be the first time you’ve heard it.”
“Oh, I have my own pair of eyes.” She pauses, choosing her next words carefully. “But you American girls always see him differently. Your vision is …” Chiara raises her hands to the sides of her eyes like the blinders on a horse.
“You can’t seriously be stereotyping me. I am not just another
American girl
.” At least I don’t want to be that to him. I cross my arms, mirroring her.
“Of course you are not. You are Pippa. My friend.
Amica
.” She uncrosses my arms and takes my hands in hers. “But you need to open your eyes. Get rid of these,” she says, positioning my hands next to my eyes.
When she lets go, my arms drop to my sides. “I just wish you’d trust me.”
“Do you truly want to allow yourself to care for him when there is no chance for it to last?”
But what if it could?
Chiara motions toward my sack lunch and goes back to work. And I’m still confined to the apartment. Alone.
Early the next morning, Chiara, Luca, and
Zia
Matilde already long gone, I scramble to get ready to go before Bruno leaves for
work in hopes that he takes me with him. I can’t stay trapped in here another day. My ankle will just have to deal.
I rinse the toothpaste out of my mouth and look up at the mirror one more time. Bruno’s sleepy eyes meet mine and I jump forward, pulling air through my teeth as I slam my hip into the counter.
“What are you doing? Watching me brush my teeth? Creeper,” I mutter as I rub my throbbing hip.
“You lied.”
My heart picks up pace as I rack my brain for what I could possibly have lied about, besides the whole thing with my parents. He already knows about that.
He holds the straight face for a moment before it cracks. “You say you are not goofy.”
“Clumsy,” I correct. “And I’m not … all the time.”
He laughs and it turns into a yawn as he leans his back against the wall behind me. “You are up early.”
The short pieces of his black hair are spiked out every which way. The poor lighting from the singular bulb on the ceiling over the shower exaggerates the dark circles under his eyes. He looks rough.
And why I find it incredibly hot is beyond me.
“Late night?” I ask.
I’m staring. I shouldn’t stare. Biting back a smirk at his disheveledness, I pull the band out of my hair, pretending that I need to redo my ponytail. Really, I just need a distraction.
“I’m going back to work today,” I say, when he doesn’t reply.
He snatches my hand to keep me from putting my hair back up. “It is lovely down,” he says softly.
I’m frozen, watching him in the mirror as he smooths a section of my hair, grazing my bare neck with his fingers. Everything Chiara’s said about him rushes to the front of my mind.
“Don’t,” I tell him, immediately wishing I hadn’t.
His hands are at my waist in an instant and he rotates me, pinning me between him and the counter. “Why?”
Because your cousin already wants to kill me for kissing you. Because I like it too much. Because you make me feel wanted.
I clear my throat. “Because you haven’t brushed your teeth yet.”
I twist my upper body around and grab his toothbrush—the neon green one. I squeeze out a bead of toothpaste from my tube, get the brush wet, and hold it close to his mouth. With the tiniest hint of a smile, Bruno opens his mouth maybe half an inch and shifts his body even closer to mine. His eyes dart down to my lips and back to my eyes, down and up, down and up, leaning closer. I should dodge him but I don’t—can’t. All I can do is stare at his mouth, knowing full well I don’t really care if he’s brushed his teeth yet or not.
Our noses nearly touch. He tilts his head to his right, I tilt mine to my right. We’re lined up and ready for impact. His warm breath tickles my chin as he whispers, “
Grazie
.”
He turns his head, wraps his mouth around the toothbrush, taking it from me, and walks out of the bathroom.
The trattoria is buzzing with life. The smells, the sounds, the languages floating through the air. I missed it all. It’s a little
hotter outside than I’d prefer, but Gram always says it’s useless to complain about the weather since there’s nothing we can do about it.